Origin of Evil
By Sinistral
Part Two: Dark Nexus
Outside Mageforce Castle, Menas began to think through his plans. His first objective would be to seek out the Nethershrine and ask, or force if required, the Netherwitch for an audience with Lord Tartarus. But he would need to find his way there first and the land was completely foreign to his dark eyes used to the warm golden glow of the White Citadel. Rosencrantz had said it was quite a distance away.
“I will need thugrons to guide me,” ordered Menas.
“And so you shall, my lord,” said a voice from behind. Menas turned around to see Zaxx standing beside him. The peculiar creature revealed a long black horn from around his belt. He placed it to his beak and blew. A low, eerie moan filled the cold air and about fifteen thugrons appeared, walking towards Zaxx.
“This is the Dread Lord Menas, our supreme master. Kneel before him!” commanded Zaxx, and then he too bowed.
Menas looked at the miserable creatures. It was hard to believe that they were once the perfectly formed seraphs. He wondered if one of them was General Xerxes. Menas was reminded of the when he and Noxious had wiped them all out. He grinned mercilessly at the reminiscence.
“I will accompany you my lord,” added Zaxx. “The Nethershrine is situated to the north-east of Mageforce Castle and directly east of Recalcitrant.”
“Very good Zaxx,” said Menas, stepping forward. “I will take control from here. You thugrons, heed me well. You will obey me now and forever. If you fear me now then you would be wise not to give me reason to demonstrate the full power of my temper and bring your fear to a entirely new level.”
The thugrons cowered back in trepidation. Most of their dull eyes were fixed on the meretricious aura of the Menas-Rouge emblazoned upon Menas’s chest like an all-seeing malevolent eye. Menas pulled out the Dark Destiny and held it high above his head.
“Show me the way to the Nethershrine,” he commanded.
“To the Nethershrine!” cried Zaxx.
The thugrons began to march in the direction of what appeared to be a distant mountain peak, surrounded by dark clouds. Menas and Zaxx ascended into the air and drifted above the procession of thugrons. After what must have been five hours marching, they arrived at the base of the dark mountain. There was a small trail leading upwards. The thugrons began to use it, marching in single file in a monotonous fashion that revealed a depressing numbness to the senses. Menas began to grow anxious as to when they would arrive.
“How much further Zaxx?”
“We will soon reach the boundary where Rosencrantz’s lands become that of the Netherwitch. These lands have come under the direct influence of the Netherworld, due to their closeness to the portal between the two dimensions and the overpowering effects of nether lore. You will notice the change.”
They carried on for several more hours until it seemed as if they could climb no longer. The sky was getting darker and a storm had broken out. The rain lashed down and occasional bursts of thunder and lightning were constant.
“How much farther!” called out Menas in obvious frustration.
There was another flash of lightning and this time the thugrons let out roars of terror. They turned around and began to run back the way they had come.
“Come back cowards! What is so terrible?”
“They have seen the Doom-Seal,” answered Zaxx.
“And what is that exactly,” probed Menas, clearly unconvinced.
It was then that Menas noticed what the thugrons had been afraid of. The lightning had revealed a large deformed skull through which a long spear was sticking into the ground. Menas examined the skull. It had no bottom jaw, horribly sharp teeth and above the forehead, two long horns protruded.
“Dare I ask another question but is that some kind of sign?”
“It is the Doom-Seal, the personal insignia of Tartarus, Lord of the Netherworld and all his monstrosities. This mark indicates that we are at the boundary I mentioned. Once we have passed the Doom-Seal we will be in the domain of the Netherwitch. The thugrons will not venture passed that evil symbol. They are too afraid of what lies beyond.”
“And the Nethershrine?”
“It is close now,” replied Zaxx. “On the other side of this mountain is a valley. In that valley is the Nethershrine. It is unmistakable.”
Menas and Zaxx moved beyond the Doom-Seal. The path began to wind down the mountain. After a while the surroundings began to change. The sky turned from dark purple to bright red. The landscape, too, was changing. Instead of piles of rocks, there were old decaying trees and plants unlike any Menas had ever seen before.
“This strange flora and fungi?” asked Menas. “I have never seen such a land as this. The desolation and infertility is uncommon in my eyes.”
“Aha,” laughed Zaxx. “You have noticed the tremendous difference. This is all due to the magical influence of nether lore. Soon we will reach the Nethershrine and the lady who abides within it.”
“The Netherwitch. What is she like?”
“Dark and mysterious, and extraordinarily beautiful. They say she has the ability to make any man fall in love with her. A fair claim seeing as she is the wife of Lord Tartarus.”
“I see,” said Menas, frowning. “But I am no mere man. I will assert my business at her court and none of her feminine wiles will deter me from my mission.”
“Of course,” said Zaxx, with a slight smile.
The mountain began to slope down more dramatically and suddenly the valley came into view. Menas noticed that some kind of tempest was taking place over a certain location. Dark clouds and lightning, that seemed too unnatural to be coincidence, were focused above a monstrous tendon covered skull, which stood a good hundred feet above the ground. In fact, it was just an enlarged Doom-Seal.
“The Nethershrine,” pointed out Zaxx, as if he hadn’t realised that Menas had already guessed this.
They moved closer until they were at the base of the hideous temple. It made the gloomy Mageforce Castle seem rather homely in comparison. There was no door in sight but two robed figures stood at the mouth of the skull. These creatures were clad in black hooded cloaks that hid their faces.
“We seek an audience with your mistress,” spoke Zaxx, rather calmly.
The shrouded figures simply beckoned them in without a word. They remained silent and mysterious.
The interior of the Nethershrine was dark and cold. It consisted of winding caves lit by flaming torches on the walls. The black guards led them towards an opening. Once they were through the opening the lighting became much better. They were standing in a large hall with a tall ceiling and support columns. At the far end of the chamber was a raised platform on which someone was seated on a throne. The hooded guards pointed towards the dais and headed back out of the room.
Zaxx lead Menas towards the dais. As they walked towards the throne Menas noticed several more of the dark shrouded figures.
“Who are they?” asked Menas, staring at the inanimate guards.
“The Black Brethren, the Sorcerers of the Netherworld. Eight of them remain here in the Nethershrine. The other four serve Lord Tartarus in Deathanox.”
Finally they reached the raised platform. Menas looked up and saw the most beautiful thing he had ever laid eyes on. A young woman, clad in a dark robe, sat on the throne. Her hood was down to reveal her lovely white face. Her long brown hear fell over her shoulders. Menas’s heart pounded, his hands trembled, and his mind suddenly lost all thoughts of revenge and power, focussing entirely on the woman.
“Hail to thee, Mistress of the Netherworld,” said Zaxx, kneeling. “I have brought with me the one from the prophecy. This is the Dread Lord Menas.”
The woman looked down at Menas. Noticing that she was looking directly at him, Menas bowed low, keen to avoid her intoxicating eyes.
“No,” said the Netherwitch abruptly. “You do not bow to me. Rise, rise, oh great one.”
Menas was unsure what to think. His mind was racing with thoughts, lustful thoughts. He imagined himself with the Netherwitch, holding her; kissing her full lips. Then he shook his head to clear his mind.
“Pull yourself together, you fool!” he thought. “Don’t loose sight of your objective! Do not let this sorceress play you for a fool.”
Menas stood up and faced her. She gave him her hand and he kissed it slowly, much against his better judgement.
“Greetings Lady Nefari, I am honoured,” he said, all the while remembering Zaxx’s warning about her seductive powers.
“No, the pleasure is all mine my lord,” she answered beaming at him. “Rosencrantz has spoken of you for an eternity. Now that you are finally here, I cannot believe it myself. I always believed strongly in the prophecy, unlike my husband.”
“That is my assignment here, to speak with your husband.”
“And you shall Menas. Come with me.”
Nefari took Menas by the hand and led him towards a door behind the throne. Before they left the chamber Menas turned around to face Zaxx.
“Return to Rosencrantz. Your presence here is no longer required.”
“As you wish my lord,” said Zaxx obediently, turning towards the outlet as two of the Black Brethren escorted him.
Menas and Nefari then headed through the doorway. They walked along a dark passage until a light appeared at the end. As they reached the light it was revealed to be another chamber, slightly smaller than the last. At the end of this chamber was a tall mirror, encased in a beautiful amethyst covered frame. Menas noticed two more of the shrouded disciples standing on each side of the mirror.
“This is the Miroirnoir, the Black Mirror,” said Nefari. “It is the portal between the Demon Realm and the Netherworld, the gateway to the domain of Lord Tartarus, my husband.”
When they reached the mirror Nefari raised her hand and called out in a surprisingly shrill girl-like voice that did not echo her shadowy demeanour.
“My lord and master, I bring you the one of whom Rosencrantz has spoken. The one who, in time, will bring us the final triumph over the good and virtuous. This is the Dread Lord Menas.”
Nefari’s lovely reflection suddenly disappeared to be replaced by a swirling blackness that eventually materialized into the most dreadful vision Menas had ever seen. A face appeared in the mirror. It was terrible face if ever there was one to behold. It was a horrible crimson red, with gleaming yellow eyes, vile webbed ears, a large mouth with sharp fangs and tusks on each side, and two huge horns above the forehead. On its head was what looked like a headdress in the shape of a miniature Doom-Seal. It could only be the atrocious face of Tartarus, Lord of the Netherworld.
Tartarus looked at Menas and glared ferociously. He then looked at Nefari and broke into a smile.
“It is always a pleasure to gaze upon my beautiful wife,” he said in an incredibly deep voice. “To know that you are mine gives me renewed strength every time I see you.”
Menas noticed to his surprise that Tartarus spoke these words without moving his lips. His voice had an echoic quality that gave the impression that several voices were speaking simultaneously.
“My lord, this is Lord Menas,” said Nefari, loosing her patience. “I believe he would speak with you.”
“And what proof have you of your claim?” snarled Tartarus, turning to Menas with a glare.
“He has the Menas-Rouge on his chest,” interrupted Nefari. “Surely that is proof enough?”
“Let him speak for himself!” Tartarus shouted loudly, causing Nefari to cower back.
“Behold, the legendary Dark Destiny,” said Menas, rather brashly.
Lord Tartarus broke into a fit of cruel laughter. Menas now glared at him. He had come all this way to consolidate his supreme iniquitous power. How dare that great beast of hellfire laugh in his face!
“And that is all the proof you can show me. I never really believed in all that nonsense Rosencrantz spoke of. If there was to be such a person then I would know it. Rosencrantz’s persistence grew tiresome as the centuries passed.”
Menas felt his insides burn with rage at that remark.
“You dare doubt me! Do you know who I am!” he cried out. “Perhaps I should put you in your place once and for all!”
“And do you know who I am fool? You would be wise not to offend me. However, I admire your devotion to your ridiculous claim and I will allow you to prove yourself. That is, of course, if you dare to do so.”
“Tell me how I can and I will do it,” assured Menas.
“In deadly combat naturally. I will send fourth a series of opponents. They will become tougher as you proceed. If you can defeat all the opposition then I will believe that you speak the truth. My behemoths will attack without mercy. That has no meaning here.”
“Is this necessary?” complained Nefari, stepping forward. “Why must you be so stubborn?”
“Silence!” roared Tartarus. “Well Menas, do you accept my challenge?”
“Very well.”
“My behemoths are most powerful Menas. Do not underestimate the powers of the Netherworld. Here is your first opponent. Mephitis!”
There was a flash of light and a short, ugly, hunched creature appeared in front of the mirror. It opened its mouth and let loose vapours of green gas towards Menas. The stench was overpowering and Menas began to feel faint. He raised his hand and shot a bolt of red light at Mephitis. The wretched thing keeled over and vanished.
“That was too easy for you, I can see,” said Tartarus. “Maybe this one will be more of a challenge. Mirror Wraith!”
The ghastly Mirror Wraith materialized before Menas. Before it could do anything, Menas had already charged at it with the Dark Destiny. The creature flew into the air and let loose a magical web, which wrapped itself around Menas’s body. Menas fell over trying to break the web. With all his strength he summoned up his powers to break his bonds. It disintegrated in seconds and Menas wasted no time in hurling the Dark Destiny at the Mirror Wraith. The blade pierced through the behemoth’s body and it disappeared with a scream. The sword then flew back to its master’s hand.
“Inflamer!” cried Tartarus.
The fire behemoth appeared, gleaming like a flaming torch. It began to launch a cascade of fireballs at Menas. He blocked them all with the Dark Destiny but it was obvious that he was having a hard time matching the Inflamer’s speed.
“Lets see how you handle two at a time,” laughed Tartarus. “Great Void!”
A white ghost-like being appeared behind Menas and tried to engulf him. Menas attempted to move away from this second creature while at the same time trying to block the Inflamer’s volley.
“I know what to do with you,” said Menas to the Inflamer. “The one thing you cannot abide.”
With that Menas let loose a shower of water from the Dark Destiny, which covered the Inflamer, rendering him powerless. He hovered about for a while until vanishing from sight. Menas smiled triumphantly but then suddenly realised that he could not move. The Great Void had wrapped itself around his body. With all his energy Menas began to turn the creature over in his arms until he was pining it down. Then he leapt back. The Great Void, realising its defeat, let out a roar and evaporated.
“Well done!” applauded Tartarus. “Perhaps I underestimated you after all. You have some small skill it has to be said.”
Menas was exhausted. He found it hard to believe that the Lord of the Netherworld was still not convinced.
“So much for my insignificant servants. Now we shall begin with the real opposition. Let us see how you handle a more powerful being. Amortus!”
A dark mist filled the room and once it had subsided Menas saw his opponent. This creature was colossal. It had a large round body, a bulging head and a long tail-like protrusion. Where one of its arms was short and stubby, the other was more like an elongated tentacle. Another noticeable feature of Amortus was that he was a putrid blue, a colour that made Menas sick to look at. Amortus looked at Menas and laughed.
“And this is my opponent master?” asked Amortus, cringing with amusement and making Menas cringe too, but for different reasons.
“Destroy him Amortus,” demanded Tartarus.
Amortus’s tentacle-like arm raced towards Menas. He leapt back and tried to divert it with the Dark Destiny. The tentacle suddenly flew forward and knocked the sword out of Menas’s hand. When Menas turned to look for it, Amortus took his chance. His tentacle landed on the side of Menas’s face. Menas fell back, trembling. He felt very cold and weak.
“You are marked with the Touch of Amortus,” laughed the behemoth.
“And now you will turn to stone. Try and stop that,” mocked Tartarus.
Menas could feel himself stiffening all over as the magic of Amortus’s touch began to take affect. He shot a ray of light at the behemoth. It hit Amortus in the eyes, stunning the creature. While he groaned in pain, Menas summoned back his sword and quickly let loose its power towards the corpulent behemoth.
“No!” cried Amortus as he became surrounded by the Dark Destiny’s power.
He began to expand, growing larger and larger. Finally, the behemoth vanished from sight. The effects of Amortus’s touch had also vanished as Menas observed when he felt his face. All the while he was growing more irritated. Why could Lord Tartarus not put an end to the wretched charade?
“Impressive Menas,” said Tartarus, with a faint note of annoyance in his voice. “Amortus was very powerful.”
“But obviously not powerful enough,” finished Menas. “These trials are ridiculous. Let me through to your kingdom and we may discuss my plans.”
“Not until I am convinced. You still have two more opponents to overcome. This one may prove a real challenge. He is one of my most powerful servants, my great power of fear. Mongor!”
There was a flash of lighting, too bright to be looked upon directly. Menas shielded his eyes from the light and when he looked out again he saw his adversary staring at him. It was a strange looking cerulean goat-like creature, with a long scythe, standing about four feet above the ground.
“This is it?” Menas laughed. “This is your great warrior?”
With that Menas fired a beam of energy from the Dark Destiny at the behemoth. It hit the creature dead on target, but it did not move an inch or seem to be affected in any way. Menas was astonished.
“Not so smug now,” sniggered Tartarus. “Mongor cannot be harmed by your puny powers. He is invincible. Your time has come.”
“I don’t believe you. Everything has a weakness.”
“Then what are you waiting for?”
Menas was suddenly knocked back by a severe blast of energy. He keeled over, partially dazed. It had come from Mongor. Were his eyes deceiving him? Mongor seemed to be much bigger than before. Again Menas attacked him with the Dark Destiny and again there was no effect at all. He realised, to his horror, that every time he attacked the behemoth he appeared to grow in size. He was now towering over Menas.
“Wherever fear lives, Mongor grows more powerful!” cried the creature.
“I do not fear you!” shouted Menas.
Mongor, once again, knocked Menas to the ground with his powers. In his frustration, Menas let loose the power of the Dark Destiny before he had fully gotten up again. Mongor fell back, crying in agony. Menas leapt round. What had happened? Why had Mongor been hurt this time? He suddenly realised. He had not been looking at Mongor when he attacked the last time. The source of Mongor’s power seemed to lie in the fear of his victim. If his victim was not looking directly at him then he could not draw forth their power.
Menas held the Dark Destiny over his shoulder and fired at Mongor. The behemoth fell back and began to shrink. Eventually he disappeared in flames.
“What! This cannot be!” exclaimed Tartarus. “You defeated Mongor! No one has ever gotten past him! You must be the one of whom Rosencrantz has spoken!”
“Yes! Finally you believe me.”
“No, not yet. You may just be an extremely powerful sorcerer, not necessarily the one from the prophecy. You have yet to get past your final opponent. There is a behemoth that exceeds the others, one that I have not mentioned as I would not have imagined that you would get this far. I am speaking of the great Ultramoth himself. That will be the proper test. If you defeat him, then you truly are the one.”
“And who is my final opponent? Who is the famous Ultramoth?” asked Menas, annoyed beyond belief.
“Me!”
The image of Lord Tartarus in the Miroirnoir disappeared to be replaced by the swirling blackness once again. Suddenly Menas felt a strong current of air pulling him towards the mirror. He tried to resist but it was in vain. As he sped towards the glass he shut his eyes as he expected there to be an impact. But there was none. He could feel himself moving through air, through space, although he could not see or hear anything. After a while he saw a distant light on the horizon, getting closer and closer. When he was just about to reach it he shut his eyes again.
When he opened them he was lying on a cold stone floor. He looked up to see that he was in a large hall. Behind him was the same mirror that stood in the Nethershrine. At each corner of the room was one of the shrouded sorcerers, the last four. However, all ideas of surveying the chamber disappeared as he registered the figure standing before him.
His blood went cold at the sight. Lord Tartarus was standing in front of him, his sharp claws on his hips. He was immensely well built, with two large wings coming out of his back that Menas had not seen before. Around his neck was some kind of amulet in the shape of a skull with large fangs and no bottom jaw. Its eyes burned a deep red. If all this was not enough, Tartarus was at least twice the size of Menas, standing at around twelve feet tall.
“Prepare to meet your end, wielder of the dark blade,” said Tartarus.
A huge mace-type weapon appeared in his right hand. It consisted of a large skull covered with sharp spikes, attached to a long chain, which in turn was attached to the handle in the hand of its bearer. The unholy mace came crashing towards Menas. He quickly blocked it with the Dark Destiny, but was in turn knocked back onto the ground.
“Gothnarg will shatter your blade to pieces! You should surrender before you meet your doom.”
Menas, determined not to give in, charged at the dark lord with the Dark Destiny. Tartarus swung Gothnarg at him but missed and hit the ground. Menas brought his blade down on its chain, shattering it to pieces. Tartarus was just left with a useless handle. Infuriated, Tartarus threw the handle aside and began to work his magic. He began chanting in some unknown tongue, looking at Menas as he did so. Suddenly, Menas was hurled against the opposite wall, pinned there, unable to move. The Dark Destiny fell to the ground out of reach.
“Dark Destiny, come to me!” he cried.
But it was hopeless. It would not move off the ground. He was completely at the dark lord’s mercy. He could not even struggle.
“Now comes your destruction,” said Tartarus. “I will scatter the pieces of your body across my kingdom. However, before I do so, you may beg for mercy and I will grant you a quick and painless end.”
Menas tried to move but it was still useless. Tartarus sensed his urge to be free.
“It is pointless to resist my malevolent tyranny! Plead for clemency and you will meet your defeat swiftly, I promise you.”
Menas’s eyes closed and his mind began to wander. Was this really the end? Were Rosencrantz and Nefari wrong? Perhaps he was not the one after all? No! This could not be allowed to continue. He had to fight back. He had to claim his authority.
With all his strength he began to focus his concentration on his power, his ultimate power. Menas looked down. The Dark Destiny was beginning to move. He clenched his fists, he gritted is teeth.
“No Menas,” said Tartarus. “Nothing can save you now. The end is here. Farewell.”
“Never!”
The Dark Destiny flew to Menas’s hand. When he touched the blade he felt his strength return. Power was surging through him. He leapt on Tartarus. The dark lord was not prepared for this and they both fell to the ground with a crash. They began wrestling on the ground. Despite his best efforts Menas could not overpower him. Tartarus hurled Menas off himself and began firing rays of red light at him. Menas held out the Dark Destiny to block them. Once again Menas felt that he was loosing. The dark lord was too powerful.
Menas then was struck with the notion that if he took Lord Tartarus by surprise then he would gain some ground. He charged at the Ultramoth with the Dark Destiny held out. Before Tartarus could do anything Menas wielded his sword around so forcefully that it cleanly smote off the dark lord’s head. The ugly thing fell to the ground and rolled about on the stone floor for a while. Menas gasped in shock. The body, nevertheless, still continued to attack him with magic rays. Menas had to hold out his dark blade to stop them from hitting him.
“Fool! You cannot defeat me that easily!”
Menas looked down to see the head fully alive and laughing. Then the body simply picked up the head and attached it back onto itself. He was whole again.
Menas was at a loss as to what he could actually do to defeat this creature. Then a thought struck him. It was a long shot but there was nothing else he could think of trying. With all his powers he let loose a bolt of light from the Dark Destiny. It hit Tartarus directly on his strange amulet. The dark lord roared and cowered back. Menas walked towards him with the sword pointing straight at him. Tartarus crawled towards the nearest wall and covered himself with his arms. Menas shot at him again with the sword’s power. He yelled in pain.
“Enough! Enough! You win Menas. My allegiance is yours.”
“That’s it?” cried Menas in astonishment, hardly expecting him to be begging for mercy. “Has it got something to do with that trinket around your neck?”
Tartarus looked up at Menas with a look of equal surprise.
“This is no mere trinket! This is the Shrouded Star Pendant, very powerful, but also very vulnerable. It provides me with the ability to call forth ancient evil power but it is not a shield against other magic. It is the source of my power, the very root of all nether lore. Usually it can withstand attacks but not this time. You possess great power and strength Menas. Together we can conquer and spread fear and devastation.”
“Yes. You are perhaps aware of my predicament?”
“Your older brother and his benevolent superiority, not to mention your desire to rule both the Demon Realm and the Spirit World. Yes, Rosencrantz has told me all. As for the prophecy concerning ‘the one’, I was suspicious of the foretelling, as I knew that it would have to be someone special. Not a normal person.”
“Well here I am,” said Menas. “Rosencrantz has spoken to me about the appointed time in which I must attack.”
“The coming of the Unholy Quaternity, your sons.”
“Yes. They will help me to overthrow Osiris and the others. Then I will smash the Book of Creation.”
“Do not speak of that here! It is the one force that can turn our plans to dust. The sooner it is destroyed the better.”
Menas turned to Tartarus and nodded in agreement. Then he walked towards the Miroirnoir. Tartarus followed Menas’s movements with his flashing stare. Menas looked at the dark lord with a frown.
“What place is this?”
“You are standing in the portal chamber of my magnificent fortress, Deathanox. Take a look out of the window.”
Menas walked towards the nearest window. What he saw made him paralysed with amazement. It was a nightmare world. The sky was blood red and there was no visible ground. There was just an eerie red mist surrounding everything. It was also unbearably hot, like a furnace. He could hear occasional noises, screams of pain, moaning, roaring, yelling, crying, sounds of torture. Menas stepped away from the opening.
“Welcome to the Netherworld, the domain of ultimate evil and despondency. No one ever returns from this place.”
“What are those terrible sounds?”
“Prisoners that have been captured or poor fools that have simply wandered in by mistake. This place is also crawling with behemoths of every shape and size.”
“Your entourage does not fail to impress,” remarked Menas. “Have you attempted to spread the evil influence of this place prior to my coming into this land and the fulfilment of my prophecy?”
“I have been fighting against the good for as long as time existed,” laughed Tartarus. “Your appearance here has nothing to do with my own business. My sons Acheron and Apollyon have lead crusades into other realms. They have brought down communities, destroyed nations, and stamped out codes of honour and morality. If a virtue exists then I seek to obliterate, or at least, corrupt it beyond recognition.”
Menas noticed a figure standing several yards behind Lord Tartarus. He was similar to the dark lord in appearance except he was much smaller and his features were less coarse. He was almost handsome in comparison. The younger-looking behemoth nodded towards Menas.
“Who is that?” asked Menas.
“This is Erebus, my youngest son,” replied Lord Tartarus. “He was born to me from the beautiful Lady Nefari and now abides with me as I teach him all he needs to know in our struggle against the goodness that plagues existence.”
Menas gazed at Erebus in mild interest. It troubled him greatly to imagine the wondrous Nefari consorting with the vile dark lord. It troubled him more out of jealousy than mere disgust and he noted how he had become attracted to the Netherwitch in only a short space of time. He focused on Tartarus.
“I will need to call upon the powers of the Netherworld during my battles against the good.”
“And we shall be ready to assist Dread Lord Menas.”
“Good. I must now return to Rosencrantz and observe the movements of our enemies.”
“We can do that from here. Follow me.”
Lord Tartarus and Erebus walked towards an opening at the end of the chamber and the dark lord beckoned for Menas to follow him. Menas headed towards the door with an uncertainty as to where he was heading. All he knew was that he wanted to be away from the accursed place.
“Come Menas,” called Tartarus. “Emalgar has been dying to
meet you.”
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